Stoicism 2020
A poem by Mike Maher
It’s nearly 1 am and the war against the Germanic tribes is escalating. Commodus is nowhere to be found and who can really blame him. The mist settles over the silence just as it hovers above the fields before becoming dew, or is it the dew that becomes the mist? Maybe it’s all just fog and we’re making things too complicated or maybe it’s the plague coming to wipe out the Roman army and none of us were concerned enough to begin with.
I just turned off the news because the news is not good and hasn’t been for months. Maybe years, if we grade by fires, car accidents, deaths, and ratings.
I never thought the glaciers would drop out of the top 10 when it came to contemporary concerns but here we are. Every time I displace a carpenter bee from hovering around the back deck it’s replaced by another, so soon I’ll just replace the deck.
During times like these it’s best to pause however one pauses and reflects best, otherwise the brain gets overcooked and the ears start ringing and then before you know it, poof, you’re just another echo, just another reverb in a Colosseum filled with lion roars.
Marcus Aurelias and the last of the good emperors dead at 58.
Mike Maher is a writer, editor, and publisher, and you can find him talking about books and sports on Twitter at @MikeMaher, publishing work about books, writing, and publishing at @PublishingWell, covering the NFL on his Philadelphia Eagles blog, The Birds Blitz, and talking fantasy sports and sports betting at FantasyPros, BettingPros, and his own site, Juiced Ball Era.





